May 11, 2015

Will this loan be repaid?

“A tiger can’t change his stripes” strikes me as a terrible metaphor. No, he can’t, not without a bucket of hair dye and opposable thumbs but what does that have to do with whether not he can be trained or taught to hunt differently? Or, say, whether a person change their habits?

Anyway. That came up because I have a secret. Or I had a secret. I shared it with PiC and now it’s your turn.

Several years ago, I made a large loan, with a very long payback date. Large to the tune of five figures. Not high five figures, I didn’t have that kind of buying power. But five figures that I scraped and scraped (and scraped some more) to save at a time that every penny was cherished. That savings, and the loan, represented my hope that things would get better someday.

Because the loan mixed family and money – which I’ve since learned almost always equals disaster – and because making mistakes like making loans on unfounded faith irritates me, I buried it. Refused to even think about it. That’s not like me, but since the money was gone, ostriching was to preserve my sanity. And embarrassment. You understand.

PiC never knew I’d made this loan, it was made long before our marriage and my policy of “la la la that never happened” kept it safely buried.

Over Easter weekend, it occurred to me that the loan is officially due this summer. It’s time to either get it back or truly mentally cut it loose. This particular monkey’s had a free ride long enough on my back!

About three stilted and awkward conversations later, it’s been suggested that I might actually see my money back mid-summer. This is me not holding my breath… sort of. (Just in case, cross your fingers?)

Then it was time to tell PiC.

I would have told him anyway but, regardless, it felt weird. “Hi honey, I either gave away or am getting back a LOT of money!” He took the news like he takes most of my money maunderings: with a nod and a shrug.

I mused aloud: assuming it really is repaid, what am I going to do with that money?
He piped up: I can think of a few ways to spend allllllll that cash!
*pause*
Me: [skepticism face] [I know he’s trying to get my goat]
Him: Dammit, no, I couldn’t! I’d want to put it on the credit card for the rewards! What have you done to me?!
Me: HAH! HAH! I knew I trained you better than that!

I kid, but at the same time, I’m immensely proud of how PiC has taken in all the money talk that’s come his way in the past decade.

He’s really easygoing in his money habits which means that in our relationship, I’m the “doer” as he calls it. When I’m dissatisfied with a service or when someone tries to overcharge me, I’m not confrontational but you know I’m going to write a letter or make a call and get my darned satisfaction!

In recent days, he’s done me proud, I tell ya!

A)  He called out the car rental folks for causing a serious delay for us. They borked pickup, sending someone out to get us more than an hour after they were expected, didn’t have the reserved vehicle at the location I’d specifically called to confirm, and didn’t have a clean vehicle at the second location. Hugely inconvenient. He got a day knocked off the rental bill.

B) After I explained the long term consequences of an “only happened once” interest charge on a credit card, he called the company and had the interest charge removed and the now-triggered ongoing charges waived.

What does this have to do with tigers and their stripes?

Not a lot. Just that, with time and patience, maybe some of the familial relationship can be repaired. Maybe not.

Either way, PiC’s a great example of someone learning to be better with money even when it’s not strictly for survival.

And if we get that money back, it’ll go a long way to shoring up our cash flow, and just maybe my faith in people.

October 6, 2012

On Anonymity, a face and a name, and a revelation

There’s a question of whether you can truly believe what a blogger’s saying if you don’t know his or her real name, or see his or her face, of whether there’s disingenuity in hiding behind a pseudonym online.

I’ve been thinking, lightly treading, one moment to the next, about whether or not there’s any point, a benefit, to considering shedding my pseudonymity, whether, if I wanted to take a new, fresh step in my writing, that would be the right step.

Bloggers are doing brave writing, soulful pieces about their journeys; Clare and her discovery process with alcohol: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3; Andrea’s recent revelation about her PTSD.  They’re able to write in the open, under their names and I admire that.

But having always been an anonymous blogger, an open identity looks like open and perhaps treacherous waters from here. Many PF bloggers have come out into the open and seem to have enjoyed the process; why not consider it?

Would it enrich my writing? Would it enrich the experience of blogging?

It’s an interesting thought exercise.  On the one hand, I haven’t had the experience of people caring enough to want to be open and honest with people in my real life about my health, my thoughts about my health, and experiences stemming therein.  I certainly couldn’t have been this open about my family’s life with money with, well, anyone. More of you know that genuine and authentic side of me than anyone in my real life.

On the other hand, of those who care, there’s nothing they can do and I chose not to enlighten them to the depths of my health journey and the related life choices.  Mostly, it was years of knowing that if I added one more thing to the list of things for my parents to worry over, that they couldn’t fix and had to feel guilty about not being able to fix, I couldn’t live with myself. So the encroaching, progressing and overwhelming chronic pain and fatigue issues were all safely tucked away under the hood. They were never to know that it was more than just a bit of pain I just couldn’t shake, that it’d ever gotten worse than the pain they knew about, the pain that started when I was 13.  Not the chest pains, not the vertigo, not the breathing problems, not the weekends of being flat out steamrollered, unable to lift limbs for the exhaustion, nor the parade of pharmaceuticals that wouldn’t breach my crushing defeat.  They were to know nothing about it.  Not when just the fact that I worked incredibly long hours with the little pain they knew about was so distressing.

I kept up a facade for so long that I’d forgotten it was there.

It was a sharp shock remembering this past week that knowing me, my name or my face or even knowing me since birth don’t lend itself to knowing much about me.

I got into a tiff with my dad over, of all things, weddings.

PiC and I had a very quiet courthouse wedding last year with only a handful of people. My side was represented by my parents and very close friends. The rest of the extended family saw the engagement ring at the funeral soon after and then the lying started.

It’s ironclad tradition to have an engagement party, oh well, Mom was so ill we just had to have a quick and small one. They all, of course, felt left out, but what could they say during funeral arrangements?

Then the questions, because, it’s my family and if we did a formal engagement, the date must already have been set.

Oh, well we can’t possibly think about planning anything now, obviously.

We have to wait a while, now, we thought we’d have Mom around for a while…
Oh, I hear someone calling my name, gotta go.

We never got around to planning the reception. Life and grief and work and everything got in the way. I still can’t really bring myself to want to plan one, yet.  I had the worst times thinking about planning it while Mom was struggling with losing her very self.

He brought the subject up the last time we were back home and my throat closed up.

It came up again, this time with the “your aunt and I will take care of all the arrangements,” “you don’t need to worry about the guest list, I’ll deal with it,” and after several attempts to put on the brakes gently, to interject some sense into the runaway train that leads to the 18-hours of Miserable Asian Wedding, trying to compromise before it turned into the Scary Vision of Stress, he said “well, everyone just has to suck it up and deal with it.”

He didn’t know. He doesn’t know how deep my wells of grief are intertwined with my helplessness to save her and my helplessness to save myself.

I lost it.

“NO. No, because if I ‘just deal with it, I will DIE. I can’t even do normal stuff because I’m sick. I can’t even live a normal life now, get dressed, cook meals, eat meals, drive a car, walk to and from the garage without planning which things I can do in a day without falling over, so no, I Can’t. Just. Deal. With. It.”

I shouldn’t have. I really really shouldn’t have. I was tired, I was short-tempered, I had completely forgotten how much I had hidden even from him.  Because in all these long years of chronic pain, fatigue and mystery illness, I hadn’t even told him that it wasn’t just the initial joint pain that he knew of in one isolated area anymore. That it was everywhere, that it was fatigue, and shortness of breath, and chest pain, and dizziness, and and and.

And he didn’t know that my years powering through work and school and work and moving and taking care of everything and more work, that was all on the Scholarship of Faking It. He had no idea that I’ve been slowly falling apart for nearly 20 years.

Because I deliberately didn’t tell him, in case he let it slip and Mom found out and worried herself into an earlier grave.  /Sigh.  And now I feel horrible for telling him because he’s been having survivor guilt, guilt for making my life difficult all these years, guilt for being dependent on me. And I know that. But I just ran right over him.

And of course he felt terrible over it.

So now that’s out and we both feel worse for having it out there in the open just making us both feel bad.

It’s more complicated, of course, than just a secret held too long, grief clouding judgment, guilt clouding judgment, a father feeling he’s neglected his duties. It’s all of that and more.

At the end of this, I don’t think I see a way for me to be a better blogger when I haven’t even figured out how to be a better, more open person yet.

July 9, 2012

Targeting big wins, a refinance application and disappointing reality

I’ve been, in the back of my mind, in this weird mental contortionist sort of way, staring at certain big areas of our required expenses to cut down drastically.

The cable, phone and internet package was finally pruned back.  We’ve chucked Comcast’s outrageous packaging of 151 channels of which 115 are crap or can’t be understood linguistically, anthropologically or by any stretch of the rational mind, just so that we can watch a few of the shows we enjoy having on in the background.

Thanks again to patient stalking of Fatwallet, I’d found an AT&T dryloop deal for $20/month for high speed internet alone. A neighbor was kind enough to confirm that the service was decent and didn’t need a single frill or frippery like phone or anything else to work properly.

So that was progress.

The next best thing was to tackle the mortgage because rates are really low and if I wanted the biggest bang for our time, that right there would do it.

Not so much.

Of course I did some basic research into rates on offer.  I was astounded at the lack of attractive refinance options.

I know it’s not 2004 anymore, but I expected to put down a 20% down payment which would bring the loan down a substantial amount and figured we could get:

1. A reputable lender
2. A rate under 3%
3. Zero points
4. A lower monthly payment

I may have been delusional. Bankrate’s possible offers were pretty bad. Mostly the loans were:

1. With odd lenders
2. Between high 2% to mid 3%
3. Either zero points up through 3.5 points
4. Up to $400 more per month
5. Up to $15,000 in closing costs

Then I ran the numbers on INGDirect. And Lo! The sun had come through the clouds.

1. Easy Orange – 5 Year Fixed
2. Rate:  2.625%
3. Zero points
4. $600 less monthly
5. Approximately $2,000 in closing costs
6. Option to renew in 5 years with same closing costs and same rate

I had all the initial information up front and it sounded good. It warned me about a Final Payment “larger than the rest”, amount unspecified, but that didn’t seem unusual. Like most loans, I expected that a last payment would be at least a few times larger than the rest.

Bear in mind that I was cramming this into one of our endless days and nights.  Goes something like “drag out of bed, work a really long day, try to eat at least one meal, rely on PiC to take care of Doggle morning and night because I will pass out if I do one more thing that’s not strictly necessary to sustain life, fall into a coma.”

I completed the mortgage application over dinner one night.

The detail I missed, the big glaring flaw I overlooked, was that it was a 5 or 10 year fixed rate mortgage based on paying over 30 years principle and interest.  Says right there on the page.

So as it turns out, the “Final Payment” was a Balloon Payment. They just chose to use different language and I didn’t twig to the obvious.

With the payments artificially strung out across the supposed 30 years, by the time we reached the end of five years, we’d effectively have made zero progress. It was completely counterproductive.

Yes, I absolutely assumed it was down to the lowered interest rate that we were getting everything we wanted: lower rate, lower payments, and paying off the whole kit and caboodle in a shorter time frame. Yes, I was insane with fatigue to have failed to see how the real math was going to play out.

Lament: Could they not have just used the phrase Balloon Payment like normal people?

What this all means now

Option 1: Take the loan but pay up to the same monthly amt we’ve been paying. Doesn’t reduce our monthly costs which was my real goal but gets us the lower rate.  Very little progress and eats up a good portion of our cash but we’re doing something. And at the end of the five years, I’ll still need to refinance because who’s going to have another some hundreds of thousands to pay that off? I’m good but I’m not that good.

Option 2: Don’t take the loan and start brainstorming again.  (No action)

Option 3:  Don’t take the loan and just use my Auto-Payoff tactic of throwing large chunks of money at the debt, but that also doesn’t really get at my real goal either.

My short term goal is to reduce our total monthly cash flow; the long term goal is to pay off  the mortgage. Going the Auto-Payoff route only deals with the long term and doesn’t do anything for the short-term. And may actually destabilize our short and medium term positions.

Honestly I’m rather undecided what to do just yet – other than to call and clarify a point or two about the loan.

March 31, 2010

Moving Fiascos

Most of the move went fairly well except for some packing fails: 

1. I absentmindedly packed the moving documentation. In the boxes I was shipping. FAIL.
2.  Discovered that the moving guys grabbed my separated out clothing for my first two days of work and packed it into the wardrobe box. FAIL.
3.  I’d meant to ship my heavy coats so I could pack other stuff in suitcases but didn’t pick up the dry cleaning in time. Had to pack both coats in checked luggage, leaving almost no room for anything else.  FAIL.
4. The company never bothered to tell me they’d delayed my shipment by two days for delivery on the day before I start work. FAIL.
5. I’ve spent more than two hours on the phone with them trying to get copies of my paperwork via email without telling them I plan to use it to file a delayed service claim.  FAIL for wasting time.
6. They contracted with an outside company to expedite delivery on Tuesday instead of Wednesday – that company called me and tells me they won’t deliver on Tuesday and won’t bring the shipment indoors.  EFF THAT.  I am not carrying 500 lbs of boxes upstairs by myself. Sicced my moving company that’s already in the doghouse with me on them.
7.  I had to spend almost $200 on a few essential articles of back-up clothing in case they don’t deliver my clothing on time.  See point 2 where my fail COULD have prevented this situation.  The clothes will go back if I don’t need them this week. [But they’re .. so soft.. and pretty …. ] And btw, the fact that it costs that much for clothing that will fit properly is disgusting.

On the other hand … 
1.  I have my car, paid for, registered, and gassed up.
2.  I have my first day information.
3.  I have my commute planned for the first two days during which someone volunteered to show me where free parking is.
4.  I managed to be polite over the phone every time with those idiots so they’ll never see the claim coming. They can’t obstruct me when it’s too late.
5.  I did get a sheaf of 40% off regularly priced items at Banana Republic for purchases made on Wednesdays in stores. I’m saving that in hopes that a pair of trouser jeans in my size is still available in-store next week. Using that coupon and a gift card redeemed from my Citi Thank You points would be a great way to save my clothing budget from the cost of an extra pair of good jeans ($90- regular price; sheer insanity).
6.  My claim letter is already written, proofed and awaits final additions should anything else go wrong with my delivery.

October 27, 2009

Wielding the big pen

There are some days when it feels like the big bad news is torrential, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.  Usually you can’t.  But there’s almost always something you can try to make it better: use your words.

vs. State of California

I called EDD five times a day since reading that letter, caught in the mill of bureaucracy.  I kicked myself, over and over, for scheduling my trip for the exact day that they wanted a phone interview.  “But,” I thought, “nothing I can do but keep on calling.”  Until I really listened to the voice prompts, and realized one day that they change slightly. They mentioned Saturday service during which most services would not be offered but that representatives would be available to help log online requests.  You’d better believe I was all over that website again, searching for that elusive online option.  I found a series of drop down menus that would suffice, and I wrote a thorough explanation for why a phone interview wasn’t necessary.  They provided a list of some 20-odd questions I had to be prepared to answer: I answered all of them in that form.  At the end of it, I clicked “send” with a prayer.

Result:  Win.

vs. county of San Diego

Immediately after receiving those fines, I fired off letters disputing the Toll Evasion Accusations.  In detail, I pointed out all the problems with paying a toll for which the amount was unstated.  I stopped short of making any nasty comments and offered to pay the original toll fee.

Result: 80% Win.  They want me to pay the original toll, plus $10 (vs. the original $50 fee) to cover their collection and processing.  To justify this, they’re calling the judgment “we’re right, but we’ll reduce the fee this one time for you.  Just pay our costs.”  Uh huh.  Jerks.

$39 cost to me, with a $120 discount.

vs. online class instructor
On a short quiz of only 10 questions, with a forced completion time, the percentage point loss when two of the questions are poorly worded is substantial.  I ran the possible equations, closed my eyes and picked a set of answers to submit – and lost the 50/50 gamble.  I sent the instructor an email letting him know the questions were ambiguous, and that I had run the numbers correctly supposing one of two interpretations.  I didn’t ask for my points back since he had to first acknowledge that my interpretations were valid.
Result:  Win.  The HTML had incorrectly rendered his text, and the question was posted incorrectly.  Points were returned to me.
Have you argued or negotiated your way to victory lately?  Will you, now?  Do share! I’ve got a few more pots on the stove bubbling away, I’ll fill you in on those when the incubation period is over.

October 21, 2009

“Keep Unread” could be my undoing

That “keep unread” option on Google Reader always seemed like a good thing until I started abusing it. (Isn’t that always the way it is?)  I wanted to keep everything from My Money Blog, or whichever blog I was skimming, unread because it’s all useful information. It became the electronic equivalent of filing paperwork: I’d open something, note that it was interesting, and then Keep Unread so I could deal with it later.

Voila!  I made Google Reader three times less efficient!  Not only do I only skim the post the first time ’round, I’m not acting on it and saving it for later.  While I skip around Reader not doing anything about the interesting post, I’m wading hip deep in Read-but-save-for-later posts.  When I finally get ’round to dealing with them, I’ve got a huge stash of posts that need attention.  

*Shame on me!*

No real promises, but I’m trying to keep the clicking of “Keep Unread” under control. I take a second to think about whether I really need the information, or if I truly plan on using it.  Or commenting, even. If I wanted to comment on it, just go do so.  If not, read and move on.

It’s amazing how easily a new bad habit can form without conscious thought. I wonder if that’s how MOST bad habits start?

October 20, 2009

Online appeal worked!!

After the dozens of failed calls to EDD, after getting hung up on every single time I thought I’d successfully navigated the phone maze, after every frantic attempt to jigger my schedule to make time for a phone interview ….

I sent a long, thorough (polite!) email through the system explaining my online classes and how they don’t interfere with my job search.

And I just got an email saying:  Your online courses have been approved. The telephone interview has been cancelled.  Your check will be mailed tomorrow with the subsequent claim form.

Note: Now we’ll see what the forms say, and if they make up for lost time.  But in the meantime, my budget is sighing a small sigh of relief. 

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